Hidden Haven
by PurpleForDonnie
Summary: A girl wakes up in a dark room only to realise that she has no memories. Things get even stranger when she finds out she's somehow woken up in the creepy house of a man known only as Undertaker. It doesn't take her long to realise that he's keeping secrets from her... A lot of secrets... On her search for answers, she ends up finding something else altogether... UndertakerXOC
1. Chapter 1

****Author's Note: Hi! So... I sort of wrote this for a creative writing assignment, then ended up liking it enough to continue it a bit. I got the idea from someone who commented on another story of mine, suggesting I write an Undertaker story! **

**My sister read it for me, and said that she could sort of see where I was going, and that the concept was a bit cliche, and I realised that, but I liked it anyhow! And I tried really hard to put my own spin on things! **

**So please comment and let me know what you think! **

**Thanks for reading! PS I don't own Kuroshitsuji or any characters besides my own OC! ^_^ ****

There was chaos, creating a turmoil that seeped into every fibre of everything; in the midst of the chaos, a girl found herself floating.

Her mind was inside of itself, and she knew that she was dead.

Her last memories seemed to replay themselves all around her, like reliving all the horror of her past repeatedly.

And she could see her death occur right before her very eyes, and her worst fears were confirmed.

Deep inside her chest, she felt something heavy. Maybe it was her heart, or possibly an emotion. She knew that sometimes emotions could be heavier than solid objects, but she never got a chance to realise just what the weight was.

As she levitated in the darkness, her legs and arms spread as if to keep her motionless body afloat, she saw the tiniest pinprick of light in the distance.

She couldn't speak, couldn't draw in another breath...

It was as if the luminescence before her started to expand, reaching it's blinding tendrils toward her, making her wish she could close her eyes.

The light hesitated in the darkness, and the girl continued to stare up into the white.

Suddenly, the radiance silently exploded, casting bright spears all around her vision.

And then after, the girl felt the chaos leave her body exhausted, everything around her was blank.

White nothingness.

The girl still couldn't breathe. She willed her chest to move but it was as if her mind was disconnected from her body.

The space around her was so deafeningly silent that the girl was unsettled, and waited for something to happen.

Was this what death was supposed to be like? She wondered. She'd always heard that there was supposed to be a long tunnel that would take her to her eternal rest, but there was no tunnel here.

There was nothing here.

Suddenly, a sound made it's way to her ears: a sound so quiet that at first she wasn't certain she had even heard anything at all.

But as she strained to continue listening, she heard it again.

A voice.

Someone was speaking, but the words were so soft that the girl couldn't understand them. The voice was mixed together as if some transparent wind was pushing it away from her, trying to hide the secrets the voice was fighting to communicate to her.

She forced herself to hear. If her body wasn't able to help her, she would make her mind cooperate.

Straining with every ounce of energy her soul had left, the girl finally made out the words that were being spoken:

"W... Wake up."

...

The girl sat up quickly, feeling her heart pound in her chest like the beating wings of a caged bird.

Everything around her was dark, and shadows covered her body.

Her dry lips were parted, gasping in precious air to her lungs, making her chest rise and fall too rapidly.

Where was she?

She whipped her head from side to side, scanning the room, searching for a sign of inhabitation.

The room was small, with wooden walls and floor. There were tables on each side, with jars stacked everywhere, some sort of liquid colouring the insides of the glasses like trapped oceans of red and blue and yellow.

She was laying on a cot, which seemed to be above the ground for some reason she could not yet interpret, and there was an old lamp sitting on the floor a few feet away from her, casting shadows around the room in strange angles.

There were familiar shining metal knives and long pointed objects on the tables, and the girl eyed them suspiciously before wondering where she had seen them before.

The girl slowly lowered her bare feet to the floor, and realised that the cot she had awakened on was sitting on top of a coffin.

With a start, she noticed that several coffins were stacked about the room, their edges and corners threatening her silently with their symbolism of death and cadavers.

She stood up and backed away from her cot, from the coffins, from the strange jars and weapons.

What sort of place had she been brought to?

What kind of horrific place was this?

She wanted to scream, but her throat was clogged with fear, as if her mind was too surprised to react properly to the situation.

Backed up against the wall, her heart pounding rapidly, the girl stepped on something, making her foot slip off to the side.

Looking down, she squinted her eyes into the darkness, and saw a human skull rolling around, ricocheting from where her foot had kicked it.

She screamed for the first time, the sound echoing off the walls and startling her, and suddenly a door flew open to her right.

The girl looked over at the door. A square of light spilled from the opening, and a man walked through, quickly spotting her backed up against the wall like a cornered animal.

"Well now, dearie, you're awake so soon," he said in a thick accent, and the girl had nowhere to run.

The man was wearing a very tall black hat, and had long silver hair, which a small section of had been braided down his right side. His bangs hung down over his eyes, hiding them from her view, although she could still see stitches running down his cheek and onto his neck, like the footprints of a crow.

She didn't say anything to him, and he gave her a grin that relayed a sense of instability, and the girl gulped.

"I didn't expect you to awake for another hour, I didn't," the man added, putting a hand to his chin and tapping a long, black fingernail against his bottom lip in thought. "But then again, there are some things a man just simply can not understand, no matter how hard he may try!"

His grin returned and he motioned for her to follow him.

She hesitated, unsure if he was going to try to hurt her, but he didn't seem threatening as he heartily skipped through the exit.

The girl decided to momentarily trust him, and walked out the door, as silently requested, and saw that there was another room.

This one was more brightly lit, although there were still coffins strewn about, and propped up against the walls haphazardly.

She blinked back the sudden light, shadowing her face with a hand.

"Who are you?" the girl finally asked, her voice startling her for a moment. She'd been expecting a different voice for an unfathomable reason, but when she had opened her cracked lips, someone else's voice had escaped.

The man turned back around, his grin growing wider at the sound of her words, and put a hand under her chin to raise her face.

She could feel his fingers lightly grip her face as he pulled her gaze up, and his fingernails grazed her cheeks.

"They call me Undertaker, dearie," he replied, as the girl internally debated whether or not to move her face away from him. "And what do they call you?"

The girl opened her mouth to answer, but a realisation hit her deeply, and her eyes widened in shock.

"I... I don't remember," she whispered to him, in surprise.

"Eh," Undertaker mumbled, removing his hand from her chin. "Ya don't remember your name? How very interesting, but at the same time I wonder... Quite a shame, that is."

The girl watched in silence as Undertaker seemed to scoff, then turn around toward the coffins.

She gazed around in curiosity, taking in the strange room.

The dusty shelves, the boxes of some sort of bone-shaped biscuits that didn't actually look very appetising, and the streaky windows that didn't allow in much sunlight.

"What happened to me?" the girl asked, turning back toward Undertaker.

He finally faced her again and grinned, bending his head in a way that suggested he had secrets to tell her. He crossed his arms, and the girl realised that he was wearing a long black robe of some kind, and that he had a black ring on his pinky finger.

She stopped studying him and waited for his answer to her previously asked question.

"That is something you should tell me," Undertaker replied, crossing his long fingers in front of his face.

"What? I don't remember," the girl mumbled to herself, feeling panic flare up inside of her chest like an angry dragon realising that it was chained to the wall for the first time.

"You don't remember," Undertaker repeated, sounding as if he were deep in thought.

"Can you tell me, Undertaker," the girl started, and his gaze snapped up to her own. "How did I get here? The last thing I do remember..."

She trailed off, uncertainly.

"What? And what would be the last thing you do remember, lady?" Undertaker laughed loudly, putting a hand to cover his face, his hair parting a bit, almost allowing the girl to see his eyes.

But he removed his hand quickly as if he'd burnt himself, and continued to grin at her.

"I DO know that I wasn't here before," she stated, a tad defensively. "I was somewhere else... I... died."

Undertaker did seem surprised by her last sentence, and drew back away from her a bit.

"Ya died, did ya, now?" Undertaker asked, his voice low and unamused, as if he were startled but also displeased by her statement.

"I assume so," the girl stuttered, confused by her own answer. "I- I don't understand why I said that."

"Maybe it's true, that's why ya said it!" Undertaker exclaimed.

"But I can't be dead," the girl insisted, putting her hands to her chest. "I'm right here. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Undertaker didn't reply to her almost-rhetorical question, and faced his coffins once again. He seemed to be in deep thought, and the girl realised that he must be a deep thinker, as he was always pausing. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, she bet if she could, they would be unfocused as he buried himself in his internal thoughts and questions.

She huffed something like a sigh.

"Your new name is Haven," Undertaker said suddenly, whipping around in her direction. "You'll stay with me now, ya will. Ya can be one of me guests."

The girl tried to come up with some decent way to respond to what he had just told her, but her mind was blank in surprise.

"I- I can't stay here!" she gasped finally.

Undertaker laughed again, his voice growing high and breaking, while he slapped his knee with exuberance.

"If you're not to be staying here, then where exactly will you go, dearie?" Undertaker inquired, amused.

The girl set her jaw in a determined way, and tried to think of an appropriate way to respond.

"Who are your parents?" Undertaker asked. "Do you even have parents, or siblings, for that matter- What about a cousin you could crawl away to?" He sounded as if he already knew that she had no other options. The girl wrapped her arms around herself, knowing she had no answers to any of his demanding questions.

She had no where to go.

She had no memories.

The girl bit her lip, desperately trying to recall anything about her past. Anything!

Her mind was but a blank slate, wiped clean by hurried fingers, leaving nothing behind but smudges and chalky debris.

"Haven, dear," Undertaker said, in a tone of voice that was a bit softer than before. "Ya can go clean up in the washroom over there, ya can. Just make yourself right at home!"

He pointed a thumb toward a door all the way to the wall on the right side of her.

She decided that maybe washing her face, splashing cold water onto her cheeks, could help restore her hidden memories.

She nodded at him, one time, then finally walked over to the door of the washroom, her mind still just as hazy as ever.


	2. Chapter 2

****Author's note: Hello! ^_^ Thanks for reading! And a thanks to and Yukio Lover for reviewing! I loved your opinions and I'm just glad that somebody is reading this! :-) And thank you to everyone who's followed and favourited! You guys rock! **

**So please, review, follow and favourite if you like! **

**PS I still don't own Kuroshitsuji... Just my OC! **

**Peace! ****

Inside the washroom, there was a very old, cracked full-length mirror, propped up against the wall as soon as Haven walked into the room.

She stared at the reflection in complete and utter astonishment.

She...

Was this her normal appearance? For an odd reason, the girl she saw in the mirror was not who she had been expecting to see, not the slightest bit.

It was beyond her, what she had originally looked like, though, so maybe she was supposed to be this... This...

Haven gaped at the mirror, and the girl who gaped back had long brown hair, with some shorter strands hanging about her pale face. She had large eyes, which were such a startlingly vivid violet colour, she had to do a double take. Her lips did indeed look cracked, and she was wearing a white commoners' dress, which was ripped and torn, and covered in blood and dirt. The small corset, which some commoners' dresses had, was halfway done. The bottom of the dress was ripped and torn, so everything below her knees was bare and visible.

Her face was also streaked with mud and blood.

"What... did I do?" Haven asked herself, in bewilderment.

What had happened?

As she stood there in the doorway with her mouth gaping open, Undertaker approached her from behind and handed her a stack of clothing.

"Put these on, dearie," he said. "Right now ya look like I've just plucked ya from the dirt, ya do."

He laughed in an obscenely loud manner, his hat almost falling to the floor with the degree of his amusement.

Haven took the proffered clothing, and the undertaker stumbled off back into the previous room, still holding his abdomen and laughing.

She shut the door behind herself quickly, getting an odd feeling from the man who had rescued her.

Rescued her?

Why had that thought popped itself up into her mind? She didn't know anything about this Undertaker. She wasn't certain that he had saved her from anything.

She couldn't remember enough to know anything about this man... And he hadn't offered any of his own information when she'd asked.

Trying desperately to hold on to the snippet of memory she had attained, she tried to conjure the image of Undertaker rescuing her...

But, nothing.

Maybe she had just had a momentary lapse of sanity. Maybe it wasn't actually anything at all.

With a sighed dredged from her heart of hearts, Haven took off all of her clothes, and ran water in the small wooden tub.

She relaxed into the water and washed every speck of blood and dirt from her pale skin and frazzled hair.

When she was sure she was clean, Haven let out the water and walked warily back to the stack of clothing that Undertaker had given her.

Picking up the dress from the top of the small stack, she held it up in the air and eyed it curiously, wondering where a man had attained such clothing for a woman.

Maybe he had a wife or daughter.

Haven slid the dress onto her body, and tied the small corset as best as she could by herself, and turned back to the dusty mirror to examine herself.

The dress was black, and seemed very thin. It billowed down to the floor, but was just long enough to not sweep the dirt as she walked. The neckline was a bit low, but the sleeves were short and very comfortable. The bodice was plain, with a few jewels on the side. Purple, she noticed, the exact shade as her eyes.

It was almost as if this dress had been prepared for her specially, she thought, suddenly feeling a nauseous turn in her stomach.

Her legs were wobbly, as if they were new to her, and Haven took a deep breath to steady herself.

She walked back out into the main room, where Undertaker was sitting on a coffin.

With a start, she realised that he was now surrounded by people.

Surprised, Haven blinked at them.

When had they gotten there? And who were they?

There was a very tall man with asymmetrically styled hair, wearing what looked to be the threads of an upper nobleman's butler.

He turned his red eyes in her direction but she'd glanced off to take in everybody else.

There was also a young boy, with black hair and an eye patch. The single eye of his that did show was a blue that changed shades in the strange lighting.

The boy gave her a disinterested stare, so she turned and looked at the last man who stood in the room.

He seemed to be a detective of sorts, maybe an undercover police officer. He wore a tan trench coat, and had a black hat. He looked up at her in a confused yet somehow still professional way, so Haven finally met eyes with Undertaker.

For some reason, having these people around disturbed her.

She approached the man slowly, giving him a questioning glance.

"Undertaker," the young boy said in a commanding tone that didn't suit him at all. "Who is this girl, and why has she just interrupted our conversation?"

Undertaker laughed loudly and reached a hand out toward Haven, who was unsure whether or not to take it.

She did anyway, because she had nothing else to do, and he pulled her close to his side.

"Never mind her," Undertaker replied. "She's just my Haven, she is."

The tall butler made an approving noise, a cross between a hum and a chuckle.

"That's quite an interesting play on words, if I may say," he added, putting a hand to his chin. His expression changed from amusement as his gaze met hers once again. He eyed her face suspiciously for a moment, and Haven looked down in surprise.

"She seems familiar somehow," the butler said again.

"Sebastian, now is not the time to be people-watching," the boy snapped. "We have a job to do. And we are pressed for time, I might add."

"We have plenty of time, Earl Phantomhive," the detective cut in, giving the boy a curious glance. "It's not so pressing."

"You call a mysterious man killing innocent people at random intervals not a pressing manner?" the boy demanded. "He's already killed several women and young girls."

"Killed?" Haven spoke up, in surprise.

She hadn't been aware that there was a murderer loose in London, and the fact disturbed her.

"Of course," the young Phantomhive replied to her. "Haven't you heard? There have been three deaths in this week alone."

Haven was so distraught by the surprising news that the butler tried to smooth things over a bit by giving her a bright smile.

"You have nothing to worry about, of course," he said. "As long as you're accompanied by Undertaker, you should be perfectly fine. As far as we can tell, all the victims have been women, and all were alone at the time of the attack."

"Oh," Haven mumbled, not feeling any better about the situation. She felt a bit nauseous, for some reason.

She hoped that she didn't turn out to be a weak woman; one who fainted at the sight of blood or worried incessantly about small troubles in life. She wanted to be strong, and she could feel deep down that she was indeed a strong woman, and that she was disturbed by Phantomhive's news for a different reason altogether.

"This bloke's a slippery one, eh?" the detective asked them all, with an almost playful elbow into Sebastian's side. "We've all thought we'd caught him twice already."

Undertaker perked up at this information and leaned forward in his seat, giving the group what Haven assumed was a devious expression.

"Now, ya've already caught the man twice?" Undertaker asked. "And what is it exactly that makes you believe it's the same man?"

The young boy knit his eyebrows together at the question, but the detective was the one who answered.

"That's Scotland Yard's information, very sorry," he replied, with an expression that brought to mind the face one would make while choking on a snake.

"Oh, just tell him, Abberline! We came to him, remember?" the young boy asked in an irritated and exasperated manner.

The detective sighed and turned back to Undertaker, taking his hat off his head and holding it across his heart. A sad expression overshadowed his young face.

"The killings were all done in the same manner, from what I can tell," he finally explained. "Each woman and girl killed was branded with the same mark."

Haven's eyes widened at the word, and Undertaker put a hand to his chin.

"Branded?" he repeated, interested.

"Afraid so," Abberline replied. "The man attacks women, kills them, usually by knife, and then brands them with a hot iron."

The detective truly seemed about to be sick at the thought, even though he had been investigating the crimes up until then.

"What does he brand them with?" Haven inquired, her mouth still feeling dry.

"Some sort of enigma," Abberline said. "The symbol of a circle with an X crossing through it."

Haven gulped, and felt the tension in the room build as everyone thought.

Undertaker ended up giving them all advice that Haven did not hear, because a memory was flickering at the back of her mind, like a candle lit into a dark and foreboding room.

Everyone stood up to leave, and the butler even bowed at Haven before he exited, but the girl didn't get the chance to acknowledge him, because the longer she tried to grasp at the memory, the dimmer it became, until it disappeared as if someone had blown the candle out, leaving the room black as pitch once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:: Hello! Thanks for reading! Just wanted to say thanks to Yukio Lover, B. LotusFlower, and Razzeeberry for reviewing! Thank youuuu! And I hope all those usernames show up here because I think the site is taking some of them off as I post, maybe confusing them for spam or something ...**

**Anyway, just let me know what you think please! **

**And Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it! I hope you enjoy this chapter! ^_^ Peaceeee!**

Haven sat in the dark room, wondering to herself, furiously rethinking the day's events.

The main room had gotten dimmer as the sun set, and Undertaker had left her alone for a while to work in a separate room, so Haven took the rare opportunity to ponder silently to herself.

She sat on a coffin, though grudgingly, and took deep breaths to clear her chaotic mind.

Like a glimpse, Haven could see something far away, a feeling almost.

She remembered something flying towards her, something too quick to see...

Suddenly, a door swung open and Undertaker walked through, giving her a start.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, her heart hammering in her chest, for she had possibly just re-seen a memory from her death.

"Gave ya a scare, did I?" Undertaker laughed, his grin wide on his small face.

Haven's chest rose as she took a deep breath, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Haven replied to him, reopening her eyes and meeting his amused gaze.

Undertaker walked toward her, then whirled and opened the door to the room with the cot that Haven had awoken in earlier that same day. He cocked his head at her, as if he had returned to thinking, and then shook his head quickly, making his hair fly all around his face.

"Ya can sleep in here, dearie," Undertaker finally said, his grin widening again. Haven was a tad intimidated by his reaction, and wasn't certain that she felt secure sleeping alone in the same house with him.

Haven hesitated in her answer.

"But then, where will you sleep?" she asked him, her throat feeling dry once again. Even though she'd been served tea earlier, and she'd eaten, she still felt the moisture in her mouth disappear.

Undertaker laughed, doubling over with ferocity, and then straightened back up as he wiped imaginary tears off his face. Haven didn't quite understand what he found so funny, but she patiently waited for him to calm down enough to answer her question.

"I," he started between bouts of guffaws, "I can sleep right here, I can! Got at least twenty-seven places to sleep in this very room!"

He continued to cackle happily, but Haven still wasn't sure what he was talking about.

Undertaker approached a coffin and flipped the top open, acting as if he were about to step right inside and make himself at home.

Haven gasped, as the realisation dawned on her.

"You- you don't plan to sleep IN a coffin?!" she exclaimed, in incredulity.

"Well I don't plan to sleep ON a coffin, my lady!" Undertaker chortled, finding the situation extremely hilarious to Haven's disbelief.

"It doesn't bother you?" she inquired, still surprised that he would offer to do such a macabre deed.

"Bother- me-" he burst into another fit of giggles, and returned into the room he had left earlier, leaving Haven alone yet again.

She gazed into the room he had offered her, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep for a very long while.

...

After what seemed to be an hour or so, Haven could still hear noises coming from the room Undertaker had disappeared into.

In all honesty, sitting around on a coffin, thinking, wasn't doing her any definite good; so she decided to question Undertaker before she fell asleep. Maybe he'd finally answer her questions, and she'd figure out what was going on.

So far, she knew nothing. She didn't even know how she'd ended up in this part of town, with Undertaker. She didn't know how old she was, or what her true name was, or if she was even alive.

But she wanted to find out, that was a fact.

So, Haven stood up from her seat on the coffin and approached his door, where she heard chuckles and an odd scraping noise.

She lifted her knuckles to the wood of the door, and rapped against it, hearing the room beyond fall silent.

"Undertaker?" she asked, and the door suddenly swung open, revealing her mysterious 'friend'. He stood before her, obviously trying to block the room behind him from her view.

Haven tried to see past his shoulders, but he moved purposely into her line of sight, and shut the door quickly with his foot.

"Yes?" he grinned at her, not even trying to hide his suspicious behaviour from her curious eyes.

"Will you answer my questions now?" she demanded, crossing her arms in a definite stance.

Undertaker's grin seemed to falter for only a moment before he replied.

"I've been answering your questions, have I not?" he asked.

"Not really, no," Haven said.

"Name one question I haven't answered! One and only one is all I require!" Undertaker announced, walking farther into the main room, his chin raised a bit in defiance.

"I asked you how I got here, and I received no answer from you," Haven replied, watching him grab a bone-shaped biscuit from the table and clench it between his teeth like a dog.

Haven blinked as he didn't bite into the biscuit, but just held it in his mouth, as he cocked his head toward the shadowy ceiling in thought.

Finally, he removed the biscuit from his mouth and answered.

"How ya got here, hm?" Undertaker repeated. "I suppose I found you."

"Found me?" Haven asked, confusion making her eyebrows crease together. "Where was I? How did you find me?"

"These are all questions for another day, another day, indeed!" Undertaker exclaimed suddenly, biting into the biscuit and then pushing the other half of it into her hand. "We've all the time in the world to discuss this, lady!"

He started to walk out of the room, then stopped and turned back to her.

"Try to have a good rest, now, and good night to ya!"

He ran out of the room in what seemed like a fleeing manner to Haven. Something was wrong, definitely wrong, and Haven wanted to know what it was going on.

Curiously, she looked down at the half-eaten biscuit that had been shoved into her palm, and studied it warily.

Out of nothing but interest, she gently laid the remainder of the biscuit on her tongue and chewed, trying the flavour in hesitation.

It honestly did not taste horrid, as Haven had originally thought it would. It was sort of sweet, and the biscuit melted in her mouth as she chewed.

She swallowed the snack with a shrug and walked into the room that contained the cot, ready to retire for the night. She couldn't bring herself to close the door, though, else she would be reminded of taking her final sleep inside the dark and confining walls of a coffin.

...

Haven had nightmares that night, although when she awoke to the sunlight shining into the room from the door, the dreams had all but dissipated.

She felt as if they were important somehow, and tried to bring them back, but they were just beyond the grasp of her already-impaired memory.

All she had left of the nightmares were the ghostly remnants of a sharp pain in her back and stomach.

Shaking her head to clear her mind, Haven stood up from her bed, feeling a bit disoriented to be waking up from the same cot two nights in a row.

She walked from the back room into the main room, her bare feet almost silent across the wooden floor glancing around in search of Undertaker, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He wouldn't have left her alone in the building, would he? Haven wasn't sure if he had other places to be, that he wouldn't bring her as well.

Maybe he was still inside of a coffin.

The thought made goosebumps rise up onto her skin, and she crossed her arms uncomfortably.

She wasn't going to go around searching for him, absolutely not.

Suddenly, the rug lifted off the floor, and flung itself over to the side of the room as a trap door opened from the ground.

Haven stared in surprise as Undertaker hoisted himself out of the trapdoor, with a grunt, and stood up on the floor as was normal. Dusting himself off, he glanced over at her with his hidden eyes, and didn't make a remark about the door.

"Morning to ya!" he exclaimed, kicking the trapdoor shut behind himself, and bending over to drag the rug back over to conceal it.

"What was that?" Haven asked him, curiously looking over to where he had specifically hidden the door.

"What was what? Oh! That, there, just think nothing of it, dearie, don't think anything of it at all! Just a small something I use for work, I do, and that's that! Come over here and take a gander at this, now!"

Undertaker had spoken so quickly, that Haven had to struggle to keep up, and then grabbed her arm and started leading her toward yet another door that she hadn't even realised was there.

"Another door?" Haven asked, surprised, and Undertaker laughed loudly at her question. He reached out and yanked the doorknob, causing the wooden door to fling open, practically smashing into the wall behind it.

Behind the door was a flight of stairs, in a dark and shadowy hall, leading straight up.

Haven looked up, and saw another door at the top of the stairs, dead-ending as if the builder had gotten bored of creating stairs, so he'd just stopped them as quickly as possible.

But the door at the top, there was something quite odd about it that made Haven wonder if it was even a door at all.

"What is that, Undertaker?" she asked him, turning in his direction. His face had already been close to hers so when she turned, she had to back up to make the scene less awkward.

Undertaker giggled, and turned his face toward her again so the space between them lessened, as if Haven had never backed up at all.

He grinned and leaned in close, as if he had such a great secret to tell her, he could barely halt himself from allowing it to jump from his lips.

"That," Undertaker whispered, "is a door."

Haven felt herself put a hand to her face in exasperation. The tension in her muscles relaxed a bit and her heartbeat calmed to normal.

"If that is a door, then where is the doorknob?" she asked, sounding a bit defensive because of his amused answer to her question.

"It is hidden," Undertaker replied, still laughing. "Come, lady, and I'll show ya, I will!"

He pulled on her arm and they both walked up the rickety staircase, stopping once they had reached the door.

"No one is allowed up here but meself, so-" Undertaker suddenly wrapped his hands around her eyes, blocking her vision. Haven gave a start, and almost pushed him away from her, but his grip was not tight against her face that would make her think he was going to be rough with her.

Instead, his long fingers lay gently across her forehead and the bridge of her nose.

Haven couldn't see because of his hands, but she did calm herself down. He wouldn't do anything to her, would he?

"It's what's above the room that I want ya to see, dearie," Undertaker added from behind her, leading her across the room that had been shielded from her eyes.

"Above the room?" Haven asked, and they stopped suddenly.

She heard Undertaker pull open another door, and his hands left her face, allowing her vision to return.

They were in the hall of another staircase, which also led straight up like the other.

Haven was now growing curious as to where it was that they were going.

"Go on," Undertaker prodded, gently nudging her to get her to walk up the stairs.

Haven did as requested, although she was still a tad nervous from all the dramatics.

"Where does this staircase lead?" Haven inquired as she finally reached the top.

"Well, if I told ya that, then it wouldn't be a surprise, now, would it?" Undertaker replied in his strange way of speaking. He had bent over her so he was right next to her ear, and Haven reached out to turn the doorknob.

The wooden door swung open, and she was greeted with sunlight.

She drew a hand up over her face to shield the light from her eyes, which had grown used to the darkness.

Once her eyes adjusted, she could see that they were on the roof.

It slanted a bit, so she had to stay close to the door where it was flat.

The roof looked out across the entire town. She gasped in surprise.

Haven could see the cobblestone and dirt roads, the houses with smoke billowing from the chimneys. She could see the small park that was a block away, and children with sticks, hitting a rock as they played.

There was a large garden in the park, and she could see a rose bush, a wild one, growing across the green.

She leaned forward a bit and saw that the roses were white, turning red toward the tips.

Something about that... Something about the rose bush that made her think...

She leaned forward and tried to get a better look, but her foot slipped down the angled slope, and she started to topple forward.

Just as she lost her footing completely, she felt two arms wrap around her waist, and pull her close against a warm body.

"Watch your foot, there, lady! Gets quite slippery up here in the morning, it does!" Undertaker laughed, his voice next to her ear.

Haven was speechless, for some strange reason, and only opened her mouth in an attempt to make her voice leave her frozen throat.

"I- I'm sorry," she said, but Undertaker only held her tighter against him, resting his chin on her shoulder as he gazed out across the town.

"This is me favourite spot, it is. Come up here all the time to get some air. I take breaks from me work, and sit up here on occasion. Looking out at all the... people." He paused, and Haven wondered what he'd been about to say before. But then he continued speaking as if nothing had happened. "Ya can come up here as well, dearie, if ever ya want. I just have to come along for the first couple'a times, I do. It gets downright lovely up here when the sun sets."

Haven didn't know how to respond to that.

Undertaker continued to embrace her from behind, seemingly deep in thought once again.

Haven looked back out across the garden, staring at the roses in contemplative silence.

She wondered why the flowers had given her such strong emotions...

"Undertaker?" she asked, and at first she didn't think that he'd heard her, but he finally answered.

"Yes, lady?" Undertaker replied.

"I think I had a memory," she said, and the Undertaker turned his face a bit towards hers again.

"Well, now, that's something, it is! What did ya remember?" he asked, with a chuckle, his chin still resting on her shoulder.

Haven took a deep breath.

"It wasn't anything too distinctive," she replied. "Just... I had the memory of something flying at me, something shiny and dangerous."

"Like a weapon?" Undertaker inquired.

"I don't know," Haven said, still looking out across the garden. "And then, something about flowers..."

Undertaker was silent and let her think to herself.

"Let's be getting back in, now," Undertaker finally said, stepping back from her a bit. "Come along."

He grabbed her hand and helped her walk back inside to the staircase.

Even though Haven's mind was still in disfunction from her assault of snippets, she followed her counterpart down the stairs in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

****Author's Note!**

** Hello everyone! Thank youuu for reading! Please please review and let me know what you think and if you have any criticism or ideas or anything! I literally live for reviews! I hope you all had an amazing Thanksgiving! My family made 12 pies! Yeah! *fist pump***

**Anyway... I had no clue that Book of Circus already came out! I just found it the other day and I was like, Nooooooo Wayyyyyy Thankkkk Youuuu Funimationnnnn For Postinggg Thisss on YouTubeeeee I Lovveee Youuuu!**

**okay well that's enough rambling! Thank you so much for reading! Peaceee!****

"Hurry along, dearie!" Undertaker called as he dashed down the dark alleyway, his black coat flying out behind him.

Haven tried to rush behind him as he expertly stepped through the grime of the backstreets, but she was stumbling because of her slippery flat shoes, and the speed of which she was running.

Undertaker had said earlier that he had to make a run somewhere to buy a few items for his work, but Haven was surprised to realise that he actually was running.

She tried to catch up to him, but she was quickly running out of breath.

Finally, Undertaker rounded a corner, and she was left alone in the damp alley. She stopped and doubled over, her lungs raggedly drawing in the early evening air around her.

Panting, she straightened back up and looked around the alley, hoping that Undertaker had realised her absence and turned around to search for her.

But as Haven glanced around the brick walls, she noticed something laying on the ground, off to the right, almost hidden by shadows.

She took a hesitant step toward it, and bent down to get a better look.

It was a white and red rose, plucked from the bush although Haven didn't understand how. The stem of the flower was so completely covered in thorns that even simply grazing one's fingers across it would cause pain.

Haven reached out and touched a silky petal, wondering how the flower had gotten here all the way from the park-

Suddenly, something flashed into her mind-

This place- this alley...

This rose...

Haven stood up quickly, feeling a sharp pain in her stomach, as if someone had clawed their way out of her abdomen from the inside.

She fully expected to see blood blossoming across her stomach, staining her dress like the bloodshot eyes of a wild beast.

Haven brought her shaking hands to her waist and then back up to her face, and she was very surprised that no blood came off onto her searching fingers.

The pain passed quickly and Haven collapsed onto the dirty ground, her arms supporting her weight and then giving out.

This place...

As the aftershocks of whatever had just ailed her disappeared, Haven slowly started to sit back up, her body still trembling.

She finally stood up on her weak legs, and started running again, in the direction which she had seen Undertaker go, and she quickly looked around the empty streets.

"Undertaker!" Haven called, turning in circles, panic washing over her in sheets of red.

She could see buildings, and more alleys, but everything was empty.

She couldn't remember the town well enough to find her way back home-

She was lost, and what if another attack reared up while she was alone- there was a killer out on the streets somewhere, killing women who were alone-

She turned again, gasping in every breath, and almost ran straight into someone.

There were suddenly two hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. With a gasp, she looked up into the face of Undertaker.

"There ya are, dearie! Been looking all over for ya, I have! Thought maybe ya'd been stolen away from me!" He laughed and hugged her against him before letting her go.

She stumbled a bit, and he finally noticed the plain panic written about on her pale face.

"Ya look as if ya'd seen a ghost," Undertaker stated, his voice growing low. "Perhaps ya've seen something to give you a fright, while I was searching the town."

"Not seen," Haven gasped, trying to make her brain find a reasonable explanation for what she'd just experienced. "There was- this rose-"

Undertaker looked around them, as if expecting to see a rose right there in front of them.

"Then-" she continued, "there was this pain in my stomach..."

Undertaker cut her off, suddenly, his arm interlacing with hers to lead her away.

"Don't think about that now, dearie," he said seriously. The most austere she had ever seen him be before. "Ya've had quite the fright the last few days, ya have. It's normal to be anxious when it comes to things-"

"I'm not anxious," Haven insisted. "I promise you, I was perfectly fine, and then-"

"Haven, my dear," Undertaker spoke up, walking down the street and taking her with him. "The mind can play tricks on you, ya know. Can make ya see what's not there, feel when there's nothing to be felt- your mind can kill ya quicker than a bullet, more painfully than a knife, it can!"

Undertaker laughed and continued leading Haven to the small store, where he would purchase equipment for his work.

Haven sighed as she followed him down the silent streets.

Maybe he was right, after all.

Maybe her attack had been in her head. She HAD had a busy few days, and it would be normal for her to be anxious, as he'd said.

She decided to just forget about it for now.

...

Haven ate dinner with Undertaker back in the shadowy rooms of his building. From what she could tell, he always had dinner of some sort, although she honestly didn't know where he would prepare meals, as she hadn't seen a kitchen or anything like it.

Undertaker brought out plates of what looked like beef and bread, with a stack of his bone-shaped biscuits. Haven accepted a plate and they ate around his coffins, silently.

They used an abnormally large one as a table, and Undertaker plopped down onto the floor as if it were the comfortable satin sheets of the Queen herself.

As the silence stretched itself out between the two, Haven decided that maybe she should start a conversation to make the atmosphere less awkward, and cleared her throat quietly.

"So what is your true name, then?" Haven inquired, and Undertaker paused in his eating to cock his head in her direction, still holding half of a biscuit in the air.

"True name?" Undertaker repeated, as if he were confused by the concept. "I've never heard of such a thing, a true name."

"You know," Haven started to explain. "The name you were given when you were born. Your real name."

"Eh, what difference does any of that make, lady? If I told you me name was Thomas, ya'd think that'd be me true name. I could then rightly turn around and tell another me name was Joe, and I'd be truly known as that, as well. Just call me Undertaker, dearie. I truly am that, if you know anything of me."

He continued eating, as if he gave this sort of speech all the time, and Haven sort of hesitated in surprise.

"I see," she said, also returning to her food. "So all of this work you talk about, is your job as an undertaker?"

Haven tried to ask as if she were disinterested in the matter entirely, but Undertaker seemed to be on edge for some strange reason, and avoided her question with a wave of his hand.

"It may be," Undertaker replied, picking up a bone-shaped biscuit and examining it closely, although Haven didn't understand how he could see through all the silver hair that hung into his face.

"And I assume you do this work either upstairs where I'm not allowed to see, the back room that I'm not allowed to see, or the trap door which I'm not supposed to know of," Haven added, struggling to sound as if she did not care one way or the other if he answered.

Undertaker slowly grinned at her, his head cocking to show his amusement.

"Sneaky little dear, ya are," he laughed, turning away from her a bit. "Trying to get answers on subjects ya shouldn't really know the answers to."

Haven tried to feign surprise.

"Sneaky?" she asked, putting a hand to her chest as if she'd been insulted. "Of course not! I'm just curious, is all."

Undertaker reached over and lightly pinched her chin between his thumb and first finger, bringing her face very close to his.

She stared where his eyes should have been visible, a bit startled at his sudden reaction, and froze.

His grin widened and he bent his face even closer to hers, still raising her face to meet his. His lips seemed so immediately near to her own, that Haven's mind became blank, either from the shock or the confusion.

But then he moved his lips to her ear and whispered.

"There will be some questions that you won't get answers to, dearie," he breathed by her cheek. "No matter how hard ya try."

Haven's body still refused to cooperate, and she remained frozen to the spot, her eyes wide as she listened.

Suddenly Undertaker released her face and leaned back with a loud laugh.

Haven tried to get her wits about her, and make sense of her own jumbled thoughts, as Undertaker picked up his plate and left the room, a bounce in his step.

Haven watched him leave with a growing sense of frustration, as a new realisation dawned into her mind as it tried to re-start itself.

How was it that every time she tried to get answers from him, he would so effortlessly get her mind so far off track that he was able to slip away without revealing anything about himself?

It... It just wasn't quite fair to Haven. Didn't she deserve to know SOMEthing?

With a huff, she turned back to her strange supper and finished eating in thoughtful yet perplexed silence.


	5. Chapter 5

****Author's Note:: Hiiii! Thank you all sooo much for reading this far! I'm getting a lot of positive feedback so here's a chapter that's a bit longer than the rest! :-) **

**Please review and let me know what you think! I'm liking how this story's coming together in my mind, so I'm excited! Thanks for sticking with me! **

**((And sadly, no... Slender man will not be making an appearance that I'm aware of just yet... But you could always keep your eyes open! You never know! ;) ...))**

**disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any characters besides my own OCs! ****

...

It was becoming quite clear to Haven that Undertaker was hiding secrets of his own in the dark recesses of his mind.

She had set out to find out what they were, but she wasn't certain how to go about doing that.

On top of her growing curiosity, Haven was also having strange flashes of what she assumed were memories, although she couldn't make sense of any of them.

The next day, Haven decided that she was going to find out what exactly was in the back room that Undertaker didn't want her to see.

It was late morning, and the sun was filtering into the front room from the streaky windows, and Haven walked out from the washroom where she had just finished readying herself for the day.

Somehow, Undertaker had plenty of clothing for her, and she wondered where he had got them. She hadn't seen him purchase the clothes, and he definitely didn't have a wife or daughter anywhere that she had seen.

Pushing her growing desire to understand aside, she walked into the front room and watched some children run down the streets outside the windows.

She leaned against the wooden frame and felt something curious tug at the back of her mind at the sight.

Haven hadn't seen Undertaker since she had woken up that morning, and she decided that maybe now would be a good time to sneak around the building a bit.

Maybe then she'd get some answers to her plentiful questions.

Haven turned around and faced the door to the back room that Undertaker worked in sometimes. She wasn't allowed to see inside, she knew that much, but her curiosity was much stronger than her fear of getting caught.

So she approached the door, nervousness building inside her stomach, and reached a hand out to turn the doorknob.

Haven rotated the knob and slowly opened the door, cringing as the rusty hinges creaked loudly along the way.

With a quick pause, she glanced around, but if Undertaker had heard, then he didn't come running out from wherever he'd hidden himself.

Haven sighed in relief and pushed the door completely open and stared into the darkness for a moment.

Her eyes started to adjust and she saw a lamp sitting on a table just to the right inside of the room.

She walked over and clicked the small lamp on, a weak light filtrating across the space, bringing shadows onto every surface.

The room was extremely cold, and Haven felt goosebumps rise up on her bare arms, so she hugged them against herself.

She took a wondering look around the room and saw..

She gasped and almost fell back against the wall directly behind her.

There was a table, and upon the table, there was a woman...

And, judging by the woman's pale body and weak flesh, she was most definitely dead.

But the dead woman wasn't what surprised Haven. She'd assumed Undertaker was an undertaker as he'd said.

But, the woman was face-down on the table, her cheek pressed against the metal, a white blanket of some sort covering her waist down, leaving her back bare.

On the small of the woman's back, there was a raised scar, where she had been burned...

No, not burned...

Branded.

A circle and an X...

And just above the branding mark, there was a large wound, and dried blood was crusted all along the edges.

Something about the wound made Haven's mind swim with déjà vu, and she grew dizzy...

Stumbling a bit, she propped herself up with a hand to the wall, taking deep breaths to try to keep her vision in line with the rest of the world.

She saw something...

She remembered maybe...?

She could see Undertaker leaning close to her, gripping her hands in his own, his lips grazing her cheek...

Haven stumbled again, in shock.

Had she and Undertaker known each other, before she'd lost her memories? Had they... had feelings for each other, because that was very well what it seemed like to Haven's chaotic mind.

Still trying to gather her thoughts, her eyes still trained on the dead girl's wound, Haven wrapped an arm around her stomach.

Her shock and revulsion seemed to spiral downward together, making her stomach churn with nausea, and she doubled over.

Suddenly, Undertaker walked into the room and stared at her pained form in silence for a moment.

"I'm so sorry," Haven gasped, and dashed out of the room, taking in one lungful of air after another, as if the oxygen in the previous room had been tainted by death.

Undertaker closed the door behind her and laughed loudly, as if he found her distress amusing.

"Don't apologise, lady," he chortled, practically falling over in laughter. "The look of your face is one enough, it is."

"Glad to know that death is so humorous," Haven replied sarcastically, crossing her arms against the chill that still lingered in her bones. "I could hardly contain myself as well, it was so amusing."

She rolled her eyes but Undertaker didn't seem to realise that she was being sarcastic in her manner.

"Were those... The victims of the killer that Earl Phantomhive and his butler were talking about?" Haven asked as Undertaker finally restrained his fits of laughter.

"Indeed, they were," Undertaker replied, wiping tears from his concealed eyes. "They've been brought to me for autopsies. To see what all the killer had done to them. Ya see, I think the killer is killing them more brutally, he is. Started off with stabbing only, but now it seems he's gone to stabbing and beating."

Haven listened closely to the information and felt her lips move of their own accord.

"As if he's growing angrier," she whispered, and Undertaker paused for a moment in surprise.

"What was that, now?" he inquired.

Haven shook her head, confused as to why she had said such a thing out loud.

"Er... I don't know. Never mind," she replied, still shaking her head, but her counterpart still cocked his head at her suspiciously. "Undertaker?" she started, and he waited for her to speak, seeming a tad surprised by the turn of events. "Before I lost my memory... Did we know each other somehow?"

Haven posed the question in that manner, open-ended so he could answer in any form he pleased. A knot formed in her stomach as she waited.

Undertaker seemed very thrown off guard by her inquiry, and he even put a hand to his chin in thought.

"Did we know each other, you ask?" Undertaker repeated. "Not that I'm aware of, dearie. What makes ya ask that?"

"No reason, really," Haven replied, not looking in his direction. "I was only curious."

Undertaker did not seem pleased by this answer, but Haven didn't offer him any other information, and turned to quickly leave the room.

...

She and Undertaker were walking around the town, because he'd said he wanted to take a break from his work. Haven agreed only because she wanted to see more of the town. Maybe it would bring some other memory back to her, like a jewel resurfacing to the shallow depths of murky water after slowly sinking to the bottom.

The day was overcast, with thick grey clouds rolling through the sky more quickly than usual.

It always seemed that Undertaker was happier on days where it looked like it were going to rain. He adored the rain, and he adored the thunderstorms.

Haven knew this because earlier, when thunder had quietly rolled in the distance, Undertaker had giggled like an excited child about to receive a gift, and then suggested they go for a walk.

He was walking a bit ahead of her, as she glanced around the empty streets with interested eyes, but then he faced her suddenly and grabbed her arm, interlocking their elbows together as if he were going to lead her somewhere.

"Haven, my dear," Undertaker started, cocking his head away from her for a moment. "Tell me: ya haven't been having anymore memories return? Ya seem to be quite uneasy recently, ya have. As if somethin' were on your mind.""

Haven knew straight off that this was strange.

Undertaker just emanated suspicion, and Haven eyed him with an odd glance, wondering what sort of plot he was up to. He'd never outright asked about her memories before. Usually he was trying to get them away from her attention.

She quickly debated whether or not to tell him about her curious flashes, the ones that made her believe that she and Undertaker had known each other in the past.

If she did tell him, it would sound odd to him and probably make everything between them even more awkward than it already was.

She inhaled deeply as they continued to walk, arms interlocked.

"Not really," she replied. "I've been having these strange nightmares, but other than that..."

Undertaker listened as she answered and put a hand against his chin in thought.

"Nightmares?" he repeated in interest. "Of what?"

"I... I can't remember them," Haven said, only half-lying. "Usually when I wake up, they're gone."

Undertaker tilted his face toward her, with a slow-growing grin.

"Now, ya wouldn't be hiding anything from me, would ya, dearie?" he asked in suspicion, but grinning as if he thought it were humorous that she would try to pull the wool over his concealed eyes.

"Oh, no," Haven replied, trying to act as casual about the situation as was possible. "I wouldn't do that."

"If that's what ya say," Undertaker laughed, pulling her closer to his side, and wrapping his arm around her shoulders instead.

Haven heard the thunder rolling ominously in the distance and Undertaker's grin widened in excitement.

"Undertaker?" Haven asked and he hummed in question. "When you said that you found me, before, what did that mean? Where did I come from? Where did you find me?"

Undertaker chuckled quietly and turned his face so he was speaking directly into her ear.

When he chuckled, his breath blew across her cheek and goosebumps rose onto her exposed skin.

"I can't tell ya that," he replied quietly.

Haven struggled to find her voice for a moment, and finally cleared her throat.

"Why not? I know you're hiding secrets from me," she stated in return.

"Me? Hiding secrets? Wherever did ya get an idea like that?" he whispered, and laughed again, bringing his free hand up to her face, turning her head so she would be looking at him.

Haven gulped and studied his grin as it faltered a bit.

Raindrops suddenly sprinkled onto their heads, but Undertaker didn't move at all.

A particularly large drop of rain dripped onto Haven's cheek, and Undertaker quickly wiped it away with his thumb.

"We should be going now," he finally said. "We can be expecting guests, we can."

He turned away from her and released her face, interlocking their arms again and leading her down the road.

"Guests?" Haven asked, confusion making her voice break a bit. She was still trying to make her heart beat more evenly in her chest, although it was difficult.

"I expect there's been another murder," Undertaker added, as the rain continued to beat down upon their heads and shoulders, soaking them down to the bone.

Haven lifted her face into the weather, and felt the cold water pinprick her cheeks.

She could hear the sound of the rain as it pounded the cobblestones, and a group of children were running down the narrow road suddenly, scant coats raised to cover their dirty blond heads. Their laughter broke through the sound of the rain, like a beacon of light in the dark.

"Another murder," Haven whispered, feeling some peculiar emotion wrapping itself around her stomach.

Undertaker didn't respond and they made their way through the storm, their boots sloshing through the water as it gently streamed down the road.


	6. Chapter 6

****Author's Note:: Thank you sooo much for reading this far!**

**And a special thanks to YukioLover, , Razzeeberry, aandm20, hisangel18, isemansh, Sakura Tsuki206, and LeCustard for reviewing! I really appreciate all the feedback I'm getting! It really helps me and inspires me! ^_^ **

**Please review and tell me what you think about this chapter! What do you think about Sebastian's strange behaviour? :-) Thanks so much for reading! ****

...

Undertaker had been right after all, Haven realised, as he opened the door to their dark home only moments after they'd returned home themselves.

She saw Earl Phantomhive standing in the doorway, a navy blue jacket and hood covering his dark hair. His eyepatch and bright blue eye stood out in great contrast against his pale skin.

Alongside the young Earl was his butler, Sebastian, who had no jacket and stood amongst the rain as if he welcomed it's presence.

"Ah, Earl Phantomhive and his butler," Undertaker greeted them as they walked into the building. "My door is always open to the both of you."

The pair entered the room and the young boy took his jacket off with the help of Sebastian, who somehow prevented it from dripping onto the floor.

"Undertaker," Earl Phantomhive greeted. "I assume you know why we're here."

Undertaker laughed suddenly, and put a hand to his hat.

"Ya've come about the murder, haven't ya," he stated, and motioned for them all to sit down.

"Of course," the boy replied. "There's been another, and they're getting more gruesome, I've heard."

Undertaker nodded enthusiastically and then turned toward Haven.

"Haven, my dear, would ya make us some tea?" he asked kindly, and Haven had the sneaking suspicion that he wanted her away from the gossip about the murders.

For some reason, he didn't want her to know much about them.

"Yes, of course," Haven nodded at them all and made her way into the recently found kitchenette.

She hadn't even known it was there before, but she'd seen Undertaker walk out of it just after they'd gotten home from walking.

It was all the way to the right of the main room, behind a door that was so camouflaged that she hadn't been able to spot it before. The door was the exact colour of the walls around it, and the doorknob resembled a knot in the wall if someone glanced too quickly at it.

Haven walked inside and put an old tea kettle on the wood stove to heat up.

She reached up high to remove the teacups from the top shelf of the cabinets, when she suddenly felt someone's hands on her waist.

Startled, she turned around and came face-to-face with Sebastian, the Phantomhive butler.

She gaped up at him in confusion.

"Hello," he smiled up at her, his eyes closing with his politeness. "If you would allow me."

He reached up and handed the cups down to her. She took them from his gloved hands and set them on the counter.

"Thank you," she replied, and tried to take a step away from him.

"Think nothing of it, my lady," Sebastian said. "I am, indeed, a butler. I find that simple chores such as these comfort me, especially in times of great distress."

He gave her another smile, and Haven felt more trusting of him for it.

"I understand," Haven replied, returning his smile. "I bet with Earl Phantomhive looking into the murders, it does cause your household a good deal of distress."

Sebastian gave a small chuckle, and Haven heard the teapot whistle.

She turned around and picked up the kettle, and felt Sebastian put a hand on the small of her back. She almost jumped but refused to let her surprise show.

"Allow me," Sebastian cut in front of her and gently took the pot from her hands. She let him take it and he spun back around to pour the water into the cups.

When he turned back around to help her carry the cups back into the main room, he was giving her an odd expression, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

His red gaze studied her more closely than ever, as if he were truly seeing her for the first time.

"Wh-what?" Haven asked, surprised by his change in demeanour.

"Nothing, my lady," Sebastian recovered quickly, and shook his head a bit. "Please excuse me."

He walked ahead out of the kitchenette to hand the cups in to Earl Phantomhive and Undertaker, who was eyeing her and Sebastian with what seemed to be a confused expression.

Haven took her own tea and sat down, deciding to listen to the conversation against Undertaker's wishes.

The young Earl took his cup and sipped at the tea quietly as Sebastian sat back down.

Haven realised then that the butler hadn't made himself any tea, and she wondered why.

"Undertaker, we believe that we may have a lead in this investigation," the young Earl stated bluntly, and Undertaker leaned forward in his chair in interest.

"A lead, do ya?" Undertaker repeated.

"I had Sebastian do some interrogating of the relatives of the women who were killed," Lord Phantomhive continued.

Sebastian spoke up then, looking down at the floor as he explained the situation to them.

"After interrogating several relatives of the victims, I realised that each woman killed had reported being pursued by a strange man they did not know," Sebastian said.

Suddenly, Haven's mind seemed to cloud over, and a potent sense of déjà vu made her freeze in her seat.

"Each woman told their family members that a strange man would follow them home and ask to court them, becoming agitated whenever he was turned down," Sebastian added.

Undertaker put a hand to his chin in thought.

"Have ya any idea who this man may be?" Undertaker inquired.

"Not at the moment, no," Sebastian replied. "None of the family members had his name, and only two had a description. The mother of the fourth victim said he had dark hair, while the younger sister of the seventh victim said she distinctly remembered him having blond hair."

Haven was having troubles keeping up with the conversation. Her head was swimming and she knew she was probably staring off into nothing.

Undertaker said something that she hadn't heard and then Sebastian added a sentence that confused her.

"I agree," Sebastian said. "Although, it would be much easier if we could simply speak to one of the victims."

Undertaker didn't respond to that, and the young Phantomhive scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sebastian," he said.

Haven felt as if she couldn't breathe properly, and she vaguely heard as Undertaker gave his opinions on the matter. He told them something about checking the newest victim and finding out how she died, but Haven blocked it out.

"Are you quite alright?" Lord Phantomhive practically demanded of her as he stood to leave. He seemed to ask the question as if she had some contagious disease that could be spread to him somehow.

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and nodded at him.

"O-of course," she replied quietly.

Phantomhive and Sebastian left the building, and Undertaker finally turned back in Haven's direction.

"Ya look like you'll be sick," Undertaker stated, and Haven purposely tried to give him a smile.

"I'm fine," she replied. "Don't worry about me."

...

That night at dinner, Haven was not the least bit hungry, although she knew she had to at least try to eat so Undertaker would not be suspicious of her.

She sat in the main room, deep in thought, her confused mind furiously replaying Earl Phantomhive and Sebastian's earlier conversation.

Haven wondered... Why did their words affect her so strongly?

She knew she had to find out somehow.

The door to the kitchenette slammed open suddenly, and Undertaker crossed the room with a bound in his step.

He handed her a plate of what seemed to be a sandwich, and settled down on his floor like usual, his entire demeanour relaying the sense that he was very content.

Haven had been around Undertaker long enough now, to realise that he had only three usual moods: happy, mysterious, and curious.

Anything other than those three- or even a combination of them- Haven had not yet seen him distinguish.

Even though Undertaker wolfed down his sandwich too quickly for Haven to even comprehend, she couldn't make herself eat.

She took a bite or two, and then became lost in thought, taking the sandwich apart and putting it back together.

"Haven, dear," Undertaker said suddenly, and she looked up at him in curiosity. "You must be feelin' a bit under the weather. Ya haven't eaten and earlier you acted quite strangely... You'd tell me if ya were sick, ya would?"

He cocked his head to the side, as if he were anxiously awaiting her response like a letter from the Queen.

"I..." Haven wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't think that she was sick... But really, how would she know for sure? "I don't know. I'm sorry."

She expected Undertaker to laugh loudly at her apology because she hadn't done anything wrong, but his face suddenly became so serious.

It was the most austere she'd ever seen him before.

Undertaker leaned forward in his seat, slowly, most likely examining her as if she were some sort of dying patient.

His face held no trace of his usual mysterious grin.

Haven gulped as Undertaker's face stopped but mere inches from her own, but she didn't act to lean away.

Suddenly, he reached across the table and gently laid a hand over her forehead to check her body's temperature.

Haven jumped in surprise, but allowed him to continue to check her for fever. She noticed that his hand was unusually soft, and a bit colder than usual, and wondered if they'd always been that way.

"Hm... Seems you're a tad feverish, dearie," Undertaker muttered, seemingly more to himself than anything. "I hope you won't be catching anything."

Haven suddenly realised that he was... Worried. Was she truly that sick? She'd never seen him worry about a single thing since her arrival.

Undertaker removed his hand and leaned his face in closer to her own, his breath fanning across her cheek, making goosebumps rise up on to her arms and the fine hairs at the back of her neck stand up.

"Take your clothes off," Undertaker stated.

Haven's mouth dropped open and she darted up from her seat on the floor, crossing her arms over her chest like they could shield her somehow.

"No!" she replied, in shock, but then another thought dawned on her. "Wait... Why?"

She eyed Undertaker suspiciously, and his grin finally returned onto his serious face.

"I tell ya to take your clothes off and ya wanna know why?" he laughed, leaning back and holding his stomach, practically rolling around on the floor.

"I- but-" Haven said, truly having not a single clue of what it was that she'd been trying to say to him.

Undertaker finally settled down from his amused laughter, and cocked his head at her again.

"The matter is, ya need to sit in an ice bath to bring your fever down, ya do," Undertaker replied.

"I- I need no such thing," Haven stuttered, still surprised at their conversation. "And if I did, I'm still perfectly capable of taking care of that myself... But I'm perfectly fine. I don't have a fever."

"Are ya sure about that, dearie? Your face seems a bit flushed," Undertaker added.

At first, Haven thought he was joking with her again, but then noticed that he was completely serious.

Did he not under that their conversation had embarrassed her? Hadn't he seen someone blush before?

Maybe he hadn't, but Haven didn't want to press the matter any further.

"I'm sure," she finally replied.

Undertaker put a hand to his chin, his long black nails contrasting against his silver hair, like shadowed clouds against the moon.

"It would put me mind to rest if ya took a cold bath anyhow," Undertaker finally stated, not leaving her any room to argue.

"Fine," she replied, and stood up to head into the washroom.


End file.
